Vent
by Shipperwolf
Summary: 'She wanted to tell him that Sophia wasn't his fault, that he'd done everything he could, and even though she was gone, what he'd done for her was enough.' A short Carol introspection. Set during 'Triggerfinger'.


**Here's another random ficlet!**

**This is simply my take on the immediate aftermath of Daryl's explosion in 'Triggerfinger'. I had been wanting to jump into this scene ever since the episode aired but WRITING BLOCKAGE. So, here it is.**

**As always, give me your thoughts, and as always, I own not!**

* * *

She felt her lips meld together, her teeth grind as she willed her feet to stay firm.

Daryl's body was a flurry of movement: he swayed back and forth, his anger (at her, at himself, at the world) driving his animation and Carol breathed deep at the harsh words he spat.

"Y'got no husband…no daughter….you don't know what to do with yourself…"

His finger jabbed the air in between them and his voice rose.

Carol did not move.

"You ain't my problem! Sophia wasn't _mine!_"

He backed away slightly and she saw his body tense up. Build momentum. Prepare.

"_All you had to do was keep an eye on her!_"

In a flash of rage she watched his hand come up halfway, her face most certainly its target. Daryl stomped the ground in the exact same moment.

And despite herself, she jerked her head away.

In that split-second of movement Carol felt the air around them sizzle with anger and fear and _pain_, and as she moved back from his hand she knew he had stomped like he did to _stop himself_.

Daryl's body flew back the moment she had released that sound of expectation (the tiny hum of enduring pain and instinctive fear) and he stared at her as she sucked in a deep breath and righted herself.

"Yeah…"

Most of what Daryl had screamed at her was true. She could have done more. She _should_ have done more. But the fear. The fear always stopped her, like a rock-hard set of abrasive knuckles to her cheek.

Like a pair of low-lidded, wicked eyes wandering across the small form of her daughter.

She sucked in another breath. She wasn't like him. Like them. She wasn't a hunter or a killer, she couldn't shoot a gun or drive a machete clean through the neck of a Walker. She couldn't sit atop the RV and watch the tree line with the full confidence that if she saw something, she could take it down before it reached the ones she loved.

She couldn't….but she wanted to. And if she had just _realized_ that sooner, maybe…

But no. Sophia's loss was a string of horrible circumstances. They had to hide. She couldn't have stopped Sophia from running into those woods. Rick had tried.

Rick had tried.

Rick had _tried_.

And the man now staring at her, chest heaving, hands clenched by his sides, had tried even harder.

And still Sophia had been lost.

Carol blinked and stood still, watching Daryl take a few more steps away from her space. His lips pursed, and his eyes darted across her face, narrowing with a glint of regret she instantly recognized.

She felt the air calm around him- like they'd stepped together into the eye of a hurricane- and suddenly, Daryl ducked his head and turned away from her.

"Go on back to the house and leave me _be_."

She did not argue.

Carol wanted to tell him she needed him to come back to camp. She wanted to tell him she _was_ afraid of being alone…

She wanted to tell him that Sophia wasn't his fault, that he'd done everything he could, and even though she was gone, what he'd done for her _was_ enough.

But she didn't. She turned in silence and began the trek back through his makeshift mini-camp, back into the dewy weeds of the field that separated it from the farmhouse.

She had let Daryl say everything he needed to.

And even if he'd hit her, she wouldn't have regretted coming to him.

* * *

The night air was wet and as she walked, the moon's grey light faint and the fog thickening with every step she took. The field was open, the dark buildings ahead beckoning her to hurry and escape the vulnerability she'd dared to place herself in.

Carol was no fool. At any moment the soft slide of dragging limbs could signal her horrible death…

A distant crunch met her ears from behind.

Carol stopped breathing and froze, dared to glance behind into the hazy darkness.

A figure was just emerging into the field from the dim light of the small camp…

She could tell from the posture and shape that it was Daryl and not a walking corpse.

Daryl's dark figure moved slow, wary, and she sighed before turning away and resuming her trek. Every few moments she would hear him, far behind her, footfalls faint and almost hesitant.

By the time she reached the other side and stepped onto the bare ground that was the group's camp, the steps had halted. Curiously she turned again, finding his silhouette standing in the middle of the field, watching her for a heartbeat before shrugging the crossbow over his shoulder and turning back to trudge out of her sight.

She watched him fade into the black, a strange unbidden smile fighting its way onto her lips. Despite everything that had just been said between them, both aloud and silently, he had still cared enough to escort her back to the safety of the farm.

And yet she knew- as the voices of the others broke the silence to announce Shane's successful return with Lori- that Daryl would probably give her the cold shoulder come morning.

And that was fine, for now. She didn't like it, but she knew Daryl well enough to know he would need more than a few hours to dwell on what had just happened between them.

On what had _almost_ happened.

The smile faded as she shut the image of his fist out of her mind and headed towards the others.

* * *

The camp was a cage of emotion throughout the night, Rick and Glenn's failure to return with Hershel only making the news of Lori's pregnancy even more nerve-wracking.

Carol awoke feeling numb about the entire situation, the dread of losing more people too much for her to even consider. She had slept in the Winnebago that night, despite Maggie's offer of the house. She wanted to be alone, without company or pity.

She'd had more than enough of pity.

The sunlight hit her as she stepped out into the camp, hopes of seeing the truck Rick and Glenn had left in reawakening with the rest of her.

Instead she was met with Shane and Andrea heading her way, faces grim and determined. Shane broke off to head to the driveway. Her hopes went cold again and she stepped aside to let Andrea pass her by…

In the morning light she could see a figure moving through the grass again, just stepping out of the field and into the camp. Daryl hefted his crossbow and pinpointed Shane.

She watched him scan the camp as he approached, eyes darting to her and hesitating.

Carol smiled at him.

And saw him blink and nod her way before ducking behind the raised trunk of Shane's van.


End file.
